


Kintsugi

by polotiz



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ava takes care of Sara, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, I don’t know what I was thinking, Let’s go a little deeper shall we?, Vanilla, post 5x02, these two honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22492987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polotiz/pseuds/polotiz
Summary: Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, a method similar to the maki-e technique. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.
Relationships: Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe
Comments: 6
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in this fandom, I hope it serves :)
> 
> Post 5x02
> 
> I will go down with this ship. I’m also addicted to second person. I know it’s not everyone’s jam but give it a go :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of 5x02, without the cameras

She finds you later in the artificial day. The time that Gideon decides is right to declare a night time.

You’re unsure why you’ve been apart from her, when every fiber in your being has demanded it to be otherwise. As her shadow crosses your hunched figure, wordlessly kneeling before you, you clench your jaw, and tighten your grip around the glass in your hands as if you could break it with only the force of your will. 

Because you’re not going to break.

You won’t.

“Sara.” The word sounds as syrupy in your ears as the scotch burning your throat. The fingers that gently curl around your glass are almost the same as the ones you remember from lives past.. almost…

You’ve seen countless deaths. Even after you promised yourself no more.. after you poisoned yourself rather than letting another life end at your hand. So naive to your path, that you’d actually believed you wielded that much power. So you resolve to only save lives, yet still people die by your hand and in your name, which you witness and then plan over and over again, like some twisted murder a thousand times repeated. You’ve orchestrated them and seen them through to fulfillment, to protect your world, your timeline…

What is one more death? Of the last remaining person who knew you alive?

“Sara, look at me.”

Eyes so blue, so earnest stare into yours. They reach into the very heart of you, where you have always gone to hide, until now. 

Because she knows. 

“Sorry.” You mutter.

But she only shakes her head, those eyes glistening with tears and you quash the outrage that surges in you because you cannot shed them, you haven’t… even though he was the very reason you still exist…

…and she reaches up to gently tuck the loose strands of hair behind your left ear, before pressing her palm to your chest as she says.

“I’m here.”

The words echo like they did that first time and suddenly, you’re there. Swallowed by your pain and regret, surrounded by every demon ever known yet none come close to the sins you have committed. 

The past you’ve lived.

The one he died to save.

And you know, you _know_ you weren’t worth a tenth of him.

What a waste.

And the realisation crawls up your ribcage like a python, twisting and squeezing until there is no air left in your lungs. Until there’s no strength left in your body.

The glass falls from your fingers, shattering on the floor.

But she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink, doesn’t turn away.

“I’m here.” She whispers again, 

And you shatter with it.


	2. All my Worlds come back to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The slightly less than obvious aftermath of the first chapter I probably always intended to write. Vanilla smut guys, if it's not your thing, look away :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure in what world I thought I'd be content leaving something at 430 words... 
> 
> Honestly, these two have caught me by the feels so hard it hurts.

\------

You kiss Ava first.

It’s not gentle. With one fist in her hair and one gripping the lapel of her coat you pull and push at the same time, your teeth finding her bottom lip and swallowing the groan deep in her throat as she falls into you.

It forces her to brace herself on the armrests, keeping her knees from the shattered crystal at your feet, and a part of you feels guilty for risking her in this way…

…except, you're Sara Lance, and that’s what you do, isn’t it?

And she’s not exactly helpless.

As if in answer she’s pushing her tongue into your mouth and you can taste the whiskey but faintly remember it only being you drinking… and it’s only after she forces you down against the back of the chair that you realise it – and you – are moving backwards, away from the debris. 

She releases you suddenly, and any plans you had to chase her are thwarted when she places both palms against your chest and shoves herself away. Her eyes are blown and her lips are parted and swollen, and it’s so perfectly, fucking _hot_. You relax into the chair, tilt your head and eye her with a smirk as you deliberately look her up and down.

“I didn’t think you were the exhibitionist type.” You say, forgetting your voice is still gravelly from only minutes ago, “But, I’m game if you are.”

You miss the way her eyes don’t flash at your innuendo.

“Sara.” Her voice is a warning instead, and a rage instantly simmers inside you as you realise that this isn’t what she wanted at all. You test the pressure of her hold – you know you could escape any time – and glare at her.

“Another time maybe.” You shrug, the movement an attempt to hide the way your whole being deflates.

Ava seems to sense it, because of course she does. You’re Sara Lance and you're broken and who in their right mind would take you on. It fills you with such irritation you scoff and look away. 

She releases you, but she is still crouched between your legs, and her gaze doesn’t falter as she moves her hand to where your left arm has fallen limply over the arm rest, and entwines your fingers gently.

Your jaw clenches on instinct.

“Not like that.” Ava whispers. Her thumb caresses the back of your hand and you close your eyes with a sigh, turning your head back toward her with some weak retort on the tip of your tongue, but before you have a chance to make it, a gentle gust of warm breath flits across your lips, and she’s kissing you. 

You breathe in without thinking, without realizing you needed to. Air fills your lungs and she parts her lips just enough to coax it back out of you.

“Like this.” She murmurs against your skin. “Is that okay?”

Your body responds immediately but you don’t know if it’s okay. You don’t know if this, gentle, careful, caring, is okay. 

You killed everyone and he died and-

“Sara.” Her palm finds the space above your heart again and she looks at you. “We can stop if you want. We don’t have to do… this… at all.”

-which seems nonsensical as you started it. And when did you ever _not_ want Ava Sharpe? But the words are stuck in your throat and in just enough time as it takes you to feel utterly exposed and uncomfortable Ava is standing, reaching down for your hand. 

“It’s late, let’s get some sleep.”

A more-than-faint discomfort materialises and worms up your spine. 

“Ava, I don’t know if-“

“-I won’t stay.” She says quickly. And you blink up at her in disbelief but she’s standing calm and soft and resolute and the feeling begins to dissipate almost immediately and… you don’t even know where she’s going to go but since when did she know you better than you knew yourself? 

At least you don’t have to let her down this way.

You gift her a small smile and take her hand. 

\---------

There’s something different about the way Ava moves about your room, and you find yourself standing rigid in the middle of the space, observing her gathering your tank and shorts (because you can never find them), straightening the covers (because you hate being trapped in tangled sheets), and draping your towel over the back of your chair (because it’s still damp and scrunched up from the morning and you hate wet towels).

It’s… purposeful. Calm.

Confident.

And you realise that you probably would have forgotten all those things had it been up to you.

Something stirs within you again; a strange longing that you can’t quite place… and you want to run from it but you’re rooted to the floor with the force of who you are and you feel not like yourself at all, you feel… smaller.

Ava comes back around the bed with your nightclothes in hand, a soft smile on her face, and holds them wordlessly out to you, tucking that same wayward lock of hair behind your ear with her free hand. 

Your eyes close at the contact, and you grab hold of the items, bringing them to your chest. 

“Do you want me to-“ She starts but you’ve already closed the gap between you, and your hand is in her hair and your lips are on hers and it’s quiet, and careful, and maybe in another lifetime it might have been honest. You feel an ache in your abdomen and it stings behind your eyes, but her hands are reaching around you and curled around your shoulder blades, holding you tethered to her.

Because when were you ever not?

You break the kiss long enough to find her eyes, and you study them closely a moment, before your hands slip under her coat and push it gently off her shoulders, allowing it to drop to the floor.

She tilts her head, and it’s a question and an answer all at once as you move to unbutton her shirt, inwardly cursing when your fingers shake just a little too much, but grateful for the fact she’s more interested in unbuckling your belt than how skillful you are at undressing her. 

It’s meticulous and gentle and takes longer than it ever had, because the two of you still stand in the middle of your room like undressing was a revelation and not a race. And she runs her hands over the expanse of your skin, that wistful, purposeful hidden smile on her face and you’re standing there dumbfounded by it all...until she leans in and kisses slowly down the length of your neck, pausing at your pulse point, and you say a silent thanks to any available deity that she starts moving you back to the bed because you don’t know how long your legs could hold you. 

This isn’t your typical style, this silent, soft, careful way… you're Sara Lance and you're broken so it stands to reason sex should be push and pull and fight and hard edges and teeth sinking into delicate skin...and this new thing terrifies you, even as it ignites every nerve in your body in a way that leaves you struggling to breathe... 

But Ava’s arm reaches around your back and she lifts your leg to her waist and you don't think you'll ever quite stop being in awe of how gently she would set you down underneath her own body.

Her leg slips between yours and it’s immediate.

Your back arches and your fingers fist the sheets below, and she cradles your head in one hand as her lips find yours again, tenderly, so tenderly… and the trail of fire her fingertips leaves as they trace the line of your collarbone, under the swell of your breasts, across each rib, mapping each scar so reverently…it feels like maybe… even someone like you could be cleansed.

She holds you effortlessly, her fingers threaded through your hair, her free hand dipping lower and lower still, lingering on the jut of your left hip bone, thumb sweeping down. Her movements are so purposeful, so… earnest, you find yourself taking each piece of you and seeking the full contact of her entire body. The tears that slip past your eyelids trace a well-worn path down your temples to the pillow below. 

“Open your eyes, Sara.”

And you do, because of course you do.

She is smiling at you. Her eyes blue and bright and filled to the brim with safety. And your entire body is thrumming as you untangle your fingers from the sheets, raising your hand, fingertips hover just at the edge of contact with her cheek, as you try to understand how it is someone like you would ever deserve such a perfect thing. 

But she smiles and she cradles you and kisses you softly, then kisses your eyelids closed again, one by one, before resting her lips at the edge of your left ear.

“There isn’t a universe where I don’t love you, Sara. Not a single place or time in any world where you aren’t strong and brave and worth all of this.”

You gasp as the words filter through the haze in your mind.

The sob that follows is not anguish. 

And you realise suddenly you're trembling, you’re _Sara fucking Lance_ and you’re trembling in her arms.

“Ava..” Your voice is breathy and awe-filled. You don’t even care. “I-“

“Shhh...” 

Ava is golden. She is golden and when she reaches the last inches down and into you she slips between the cracks of your soul. You cry out at the feeling, her fingers fill you and your body moves with her, and she’s learned all your secrets already and yet this... how does _this_ feel so close to the first time she’s touched you?

Each movement, each twist and each curl builds you up and up, the heat grows around you and sweat beads at your neck and you can feel the pace quicken in just the right way… and her name keeps tumbling from your lips until your back bows from the pressure and she leans down once more and whispers ‘I love you Sara’ to every piece of you, all at once.

Binding you whole.

…and somewhere, as the light explodes behind your eyes and your body shudders with infinite pleasure, you wonder if every version of yourself had been here in this moment.

Simultaneously forgiven.

You awake hours later, your leg thrown across both of hers, your head on her shoulder and hand on her heart. She stirs only enough to press a tender kiss to your forehead, and trace the line of a scar down your spine.

You smile against her skin, and imagine it’s gold.


End file.
